


In Sickness

by hermionebellemae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Shell Cottage (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermionebellemae/pseuds/hermionebellemae
Summary: “Unsurprisingly, he only shook his head in response. ‘Nah. I’d rather be up here with you anyways.’‘Yes, I’m sure holding back my hair while I vomited was an equally pleasurable experience for you as it was for me,’ she reasoned, her voice sarcastic but lighthearted.”Deathly Hallows missing moment. Shell Cottage. Romione. TW: Vomiting/Sickness
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	In Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a bit different than I’m used to- and it deals with sickness so please be advised if you feel uncomfortable reading about that. Hoping to get back to a regular schedule where I post once a weekend, I have a bunch of drabbles in the works! Hope you enjoy x

Fleur had prepared a lovely Shepherd’s Pie dinner that night, and there was a profound feeling of homliness in being able to share a meal with the other houseguests of Shell Cottage (save for Griphook and Ollivander, who had their plates delivered to them upstairs). Unfortunately, Hermione was finding it difficult to delight in the festivities of having the first proper meal she’d had in months, the tightness in her stomach making it nearly impossible to consume more than a few bites. After months of starvation and living under extreme and constant stress (and, not to mention, the torture she had endured just the night before), her appetite had been reduced to all but nothing.

She forced herself to take several bites, chewing for far too long, the food imparting no taste to her depleted senses. With one final, painful swallow, her throat lurched uncomfortably, and it was with a stark realization that she suddenly felt very sick.

She stood up, attempting to appear nonchalant as she excused herself from the table, grateful that she’d received little attention from the other dinner guests due to Luna’s animated retelling of a distant relative’s encounter with a Snallygaster. She resisted the intense urge to start running out of the kitchen as she headed towards the upstairs bathroom.

She took the stairs as quickly as she could, determined to reach her destination before the nausea overcame her. She’d not managed to get the bathroom door completely shut before she began heaving over the toilet. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, exactly, that eating a full meal with actual substance and nutritious value would be too much for her stomach to suddenly handle. Her body had become so accustomed to meager helpings of whatever they could gather in the barren, wooded areas they set up camp, and there were many nights when they’d gone without eating anything at all.

She hadn’t missed Ron’s concerned glance at her when she’d abruptly excused herself from dinner, and was therefore unsurprised when she heard a soft rap on the cracked bathroom door, making it evident that he had followed her upstairs.

“Hermione?” She didn’t have the strength to respond, so after a moment, he said gently, “I’m coming in, alright?”

She blindly felt for her wand to shut the door and stop him from entering, but was overtaken by another wave of nausea rolling over her. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her like this. Besides the obvious displeasure at having Ron see her in such a state, she didn’t want him to worry about her any more than he already had. The three of them had had enough on their plate already, and the last thing she wanted was for him to fret over her insignificant bout of sickness. He’d been so concerned with her since their narrow escape, looking after and constantly checking on her, perpetually making sure she was alright. The experience at Malfoy Manor had shaken them greatly, but in all reality, she was just thankful to be alive.

Her train of thought broke as she heard him, very unfortunately, enter the bathroom.

“Oh _no_ ,” Hermione groaned. “Don’t look.”

He ignored her plea, using his wand to shut the door behind himself and cast a _muffliato_ , which she was grateful for. The last thing she wanted was to make a spectacle of herself in front of everyone again. She, Ron, and Harry had been met with more than enough questions and suspicious glances since their sudden arrival at the cottage, and she wasn’t sure that she could stomach another look of pity from anyone who was a witness to her torture.

She leaned forward as she began to heave again, coughing up her own sick into the toilet. Lowering himself to kneel on the tile beside her, Ron carefully gathered her bushy hair from where it hung around her face and stuck to the nape of her neck. She clutched at the basin, groaning at her conflicting physical and mental states.

“S’okay. S’alright. Let it out,” he said sympathetically as he gently patted her upper back, her body continuing to expel what little contents her stomach had left.

When she felt as though she had no more to give, she slumped forward, resting her forehead heavily on her crossed forearms.

“Sorry,” she exhaled, feeling utterly spent.

“Don’t apologize.”

She simply shook her head as she reached to flush the toilet, grimacing as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. He patiently remained beside her, quietly waiting as she gathered herself.

After several long moments, she feebly turned around to face him. She pointedly ignored the concern in his eyes and leaned her back to rest against the cool porcelain of the toilet. He too moved to sit as well, extending his legs across the floor, his back against the bathtub. She exhaled when he rested his hand on her knee and stroked it idly with his thumb.

“You alright?”

She nodded, taking a steadying breath and squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t think my body was prepared for a full meal quite yet.”

He nodded in understanding, looking exceedingly guilty. It occurred to her that he probably was holding on to lingering regret from the way he had behaved all those months ago in the tent when it came to their meals, or lack thereof. She gently grasped his wrist where it rested against her knee, trying to convey that she didn’t hold it against him, that she had forgiven him a thousand times over after everything he had done the other night.

His expression was unreadable for a few moments before he seemingly came to a sudden realization. He fumbled for a moment to extract his wand out from under himself, and, summoning a glass, he magically filled it with water and offered it to her. “Here.”

She had not realized how thirsty she was until he held the glass out to her, and she was touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

“Thank you.”

“‘Course.”

She shakily raised the water to her lips and took a sip, grateful for the excuse of something to do as she felt the color return to her cheeks in embarrassment of what had just transpired.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause as she finished her drink and searched for the words to fill the silence. Finally, she spoke. “You can go back downstairs. I’m sure your family is missing you.”

Unsurprisingly, he only shook his head in response. “Nah. I’d rather be up here with you anyways.”

“Yes, I’m sure holding back my hair while I vomited was an equally pleasurable experience for you as it was for me,” she reasoned, her voice sarcastic but lighthearted.

He grinned. “This beats sitting down there listening to Luna go on and on about snotmasters, or snailblasters, or...”

“Snallygasters,” she corrected.

“Whatever the hell they are.”

“They’re quite similar to dragons, though they don’t breathe fire. Their heartstrings are actually very effective as wand cores. Of course, they’re quite rare...”

She stopped herself upon seeing Ron’s amused expression; it was evident he didn’t actually feel the need to understand what Luna was talking about.

He took his chance to speak. “Regardless, I’d prefer if she refrained from talking about their ‘flesh-melting venom’ while I’m trying to eat.”

She cracked a smile at his joke, grateful that it helped ease some of the embarrassment she felt about having just been sick in front of him. They fell into another long silence.

“I suppose we should go back,” Hermione said finally. “They’ve probably wondered where we’ve gotten off to, we’ve already been so secretive as it is...”

“Are you sure you’re up for it? I can take you to bed, tell everyone that-“

She shook her head. “I’m fine, honestly. I feel much better now.”

He searched her eyes for a moment, trying to detect any indication that she might be putting on a front. Her expression must have been convincing enough, because he conceded.

“Alright. But if you need an excuse to get away from Luna’s rambling about magical creatures, you know where to find me...”

She laughed in spite of herself. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed being able to talk and joke with Ron like this, it was the most natural and pleasant feeling in the world. “Deal.”

He patted her leg once before standing up, then leaned down to help pull her to her feet, holding both of her hands to steady her.

“Ready?” He asked, still holding her hands with an expression that made her fall in love with him all over again.

“Ready.” And with the knowledge that she would always have Ron by her side, she was.


End file.
